


Rush Hour

by chromeleon



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Humor, M/M, Single Mom Lukas, Slice of Life, pykas is implied but yanno B)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 03:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromeleon/pseuds/chromeleon
Summary: In which Python and Forsyth go on an epic journey to return a lost backpack to a little boy, and Lukas just wants a break.





	Rush Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Haha I'm leaving the country tomorrow and I haven't packed. I just de-stressed with this: the most pointless thing I've ever written.

The subway was too loud and too crowded.  There hadn’t been a single seat open when he got on, which led to crocodile tears from the small boy clinging onto his pant leg.  Lukas shushed him comfortingly, trying to balance the mass of manila folders in his arms and his heavy briefcase along with a sparkly _Thor_ backpack.  “It’s just two stops,” Lukas promised.  “Two stops and then we’re home and then you can sleep, okay?”

The boy just hid his face in Lukas’s leg again with a sniffle.  Lukas’s heart squeezed in his chest.  Alm was being surprising good considering how tired he was, especially after having been forced to come to an office full of screaming adults after his babysitter had to cancel last minute.  Lukas had been furious at first, but Clair was a good babysitter and it had been unavoidable.  She’d been very apologetic and genuine, and Lukas felt a bit guilty for the snide comment he may have given before hanging up the phone.

An editor’s office just wasn’t a place for children.  There was nothing to keep Alm entertained for long.  Lukas procured some pens and clean paper for him to draw on, but after an hour Alm was through with it.  His secretary helped – bless her – but in the end Lukas had caved and allowed his son to play on his smart phone all day.

His phone which was deader than dead at the moment.  Lukas had to rush out of the office – Alm just hadn’t stopped crying.  They’d been there since nine in the morning and it was roughly seven o’clock at night.

He desperately leafed through one of the four manuscripts he’d brought home, pen stuck in his mouth and reading glasses slipping down his nose.  The subway turned and Alm fell into his leg with a tired whine. _“Dad,”_ he pleaded.

Lukas looked down to see his four-year-old son reaching up to him in a silent plea to be held.  The fountain pen in Lukas’s mouth slackened.  Alm hadn’t asked to be held in months.  “Oh,” he sighed, “you’re so tired.  I’m sorry.  Er, one minute.  Please.”  He tried to rearrange the mess into the two bags hanging off of his arm.

“Dad,” Alm cried again.

“Don’t cry.  Please don’t cry.  Look.”  Lukas dropped the last file down by his feet and crouched down, arms open.  “See?  I’m right here.  Don’t cry.”

Alm responded by burying his face in his father’s neck and looping his tiny arms lazily around his shoulders.  Lukas sighed, lifted him up, and held him close.  He eyed the half-finished manuscript at his feet in despair.  He still had so much work to do.  It needed to be done.  But Alm…

“Excuse me,” a sudden voice said from behind him.  Lukas turned to see a young man with green hair standing up from his seat.  He gave them a kind smile, took a step to the side, and gestured to the seat.  “You two can have my seat.  I don’t mind standing.”

“Oh!” Lukas blinked.  No one had ever offered him a seat before.  And he’d looked more pathetic than this.  “Thank you, but I—”

“Just do it,” another man said.  He was slouched in the seat lazily, hands plugged into his leather jacket.  A tuft of blue hair fell in front of his closed eyes.  “He won’t take no for an answer.  God knows I’ve tried.”

“Seriously.  It’s fine.”  The other man’s smile reached up to his eyes. “Please take it.  For his sake.  He’s been giving me these puppy dog eyes since you guys got on, I swear.”

Lukas clicked his tongue, side-glancing at his son authoritatively.  “Begging strangers now, are we?”  Alm just nuzzled closer into his shoulder and Lukas sighed, defeated.  “Thank you,” he said earnestly to the man and went to the vacated seat.  “Down you go.”  He bent over to let Alm slump into the seat, but the boy just clung to him.  “Don’t be stubborn.  There’s a seat for you.”  He tightened his grip.  Lukas sighed again and sat down, letting Alm cling to him.  “Thank you,” he said again.

“It’s really no problem,” the man said, smiling at the pair of them.  “How old is he?”

“Just turned four,” Lukas answered.  “Though it feels like I’ve been doing this my whole life so it’s easy to forget how young he really is.”

“Sunrise, sunset,” he agreed.  “He’s really cute, though.  Clinging onto you like a monkey.”

Lukas laughed softly so as not to disturb him.  “Separation issues, obviously.  I don’t have the heart to deal with it, though.”

“Who would?”

Lukas almost nodded off twice.  His head accidentally clunked against Alm’s and he rubbed his head apologetically before letting his eyes flutter close for just a moment.  But then the train screeched to a halt and a cool female voice listed off the name of their stop.  Sighing, he hoisted Alm up further and stood.  “Thank you, again,” Lukas called to the green-haired stranger.  “You saved my sanity for a few minutes.”

“Any little bits helps,” the man laughed and waved goodbye.  “Have a good night.”

“And you.”

He stepped off of the platform, feeling lighter somehow.  Maybe he was more fatigued than he’d realized.  What he wouldn’t give for something sweet and sugary right now… His stomach growled as the thought of stopping for a late dessert tempted him.  Then, Alm gave a sleepy hum against his shoulder, which dismissed the thought completely.  Alm was like a ragdoll when tired, but with sugar in his system he became a terrifying force of nature.  Lukas had lost a good pair of curtains and gained quite a few premature grey hairs to Alm’s sugar rushes, and he was in no mood to weather out another one.

_“Hey, wait!  Sir!”_

Lukas turned back.  The green-haired man from earlier was hanging out of the subway doors, waving around a glossy _Thor_ backpack.  “You forgot this!” he called.  “Python,” he added over his shoulder.  “Python, wake up!”

It was Alm’s bag.  The boy was an explorer in every sense of the word and also, unfortunately, a collector.  That bag was filled with random items Alm had found in various parks and along the street.  Lukas was trying desperately to break that habit, but it also kept him happy and, therefore, quiet.  If Alm woke up and it was gone…

He hurried forward as quickly as he could without jostling Alm.  “Thank y—”

A little alarm signaled the train’s eminent departure.  The doors began to slide shut automatically and the green-haired man’s face went wide.  “Hey, wai—!”

But it was too late.  The doors closed, the train lurched forward, and it disappeared into the tunnels along with Alm’s things.  “Oh,” Lukas breathed out and looked down at the sleeping face of his temperamental four-year-old.  “Oh no.”

.

“Drat!” Forsyth shouted, spinning on his heels and plopping into the seat beside his friend.  He looked at the small Thor backpack in his hands and dropped his head with a deep sigh.  “I didn’t make it.”

Beside him, Python leaned his head against the window.  His eyes remained closed.  “Well, you tried.”

“Yeah,” Forsyth replied sadly then glared at his best friend.  “Which is a lot more than I can say about you!  You didn’t even open your eyes!”

“Sure I did,” Python interjected.

“Oh, really?  Then, tell me, what did the kid look like?”

Python hummed.  “I didn’t really see the kid, but his dad was a stud, don’t you think?”

“You’re horrible,” Forsyth muttered.  “Have you no shame?”

“No.  Not after the eighth grade and you completely bombed the hockey tryouts.  That was so cringy that I haven’t felt ashamed since.  So thanks for that.”

Forsyth ignored him.  “We should return this, don’t you think?”

“Give it to the information desk thing, then.”

“Yeah.  It’s just… Jeez, this thing is heavy.  That kid must be strong as hell to carry this around.”

“I mean, did you _see_ the dad’s arms?” Python asked.  “I’m sure he doesn’t mind doing all the heavy lifting, you know what I mean?”

“Why are you like this?” Forsyth cried.  “And what if they don’t come back?  What if there’s something really important in here?”

“Important like what?  It’s not our problem if some kid loses his bag.  Besides, how would we even return it to them?”

“Maybe there’s something in the bag.  Like an ID or an address card!”

“Yeah, sure, check the kid’s driver’s license.” Python snorted.  “See if he has any credit cards in there while you’re at it.  My headphones just died and I could do with a new pair.”

Forsyth ignored him again and unzipped the bag. “Let’s see here.”  He rummaged around, but it was too stuffed to tell what was what.  “Here, hold this,” he said and dropped an orange in Python’s lap.

“The hell…?” Python finally opened his eyes.  “This isn’t a credit card.”

“Another orange,” Forsyth muttered, handing it off, “another orange, and, ah yes, yet _another_ orange.”

“You can never have too much Vitamin C, I guess,” Python remarked, blinking in confusion at the four oranges in his lap.

“I think this is some sort of cog.  And this looks like a piece of coral.  A ring.”

“Jeez, does he just collect random trash on the street?  And what the hell is _that?”_   Forsyth pulled out something hard and fuzzy.  He squinted at it suspiciously.  Python wrinkled his nose.  “Is… is that _moldy bread?”_

Forsyth dropped it with a squeak.  They both stared at the moldy bread in disgust.  “Do you think his father knows he’s carrying around expired snacks?”

“I sincerely hope not.  Is that all, then?”

“No, wait, there’s more.” Forsyth stuck his arm in and felt around.  “Here’s something.  It’s soft.”

“Probably more mold.”

“No.  Wait.  It’s…” Forsyth paled. “Python.”  He looked into his friend’s eyes fearfully.  “Python, it’s _moving.”_

.

Lukas stared at his front door in defeat.  Alm’s foot had successfully trapped the key cord strapped to his belt, making it impossible to unlock the door.  It was late.  Lukas was tired and hungry and just wanted to take a shower and _sleep._

But he also really didn’t want Alm to wake up and realize his backpack was gone.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Lukas relented and tried to rearrange Alm so he could reach his keys.  For a terrifying second, Alm stirred, muttering something about dragons before resting his head back on Lukas’s shoulder.  Lukas gave a relieved sigh and mouthed a silent thanks to the stars before unlocking his door and entering his home.

He carefully navigated his way to Alm’s room, tiptoeing over various toys and avoiding the ones that made noise like they were a plague.  Just when he thought he was in the clear, his foot nudged a truck that lit up and reared its tiny engine in response.  Lukas held his breath as Alm made a very unhappy noise and lifted his head.  “Dad?”

“Hi,” Lukas said carefully.  “We’re home.  It’s time for bed, okay?” Alm nodded and Lukas carried him to bed.  “Can you put on your pajamas for me?”

Alm simply raised his arms, which was probably the only help Lukas was going to get from him for the night.  After he was dressed, Lukas was debating on whether or not to make him brush his teeth.  He bent down to throw clothes into the hamper and, by the time he returned, Alm had woken up fully.

He was looking around with a worried face, bottom lip out.

“What’s wrong?” Lukas asked.

“Where’s my bag?”

Lukas inwardly cursed.  He had really hoped this conversation could wait until the morning.  “I’m sorry, Alm.  We left it on the train, but don’t worry.  We can look for it tomorrow, okay?”

The reaction was immediate and just as dramatic as Lukas had predicted.  “WHAT?” Alm’s green eyes filled with unshed tears.  “But what about Fernand?  He’ll be all alone!”

Lukas frowned.  “Fernand?”

“My rat!” Alm sobbed. “I found him!  I wanted to show him my room!”

Lukas stared at his son in utter disbelief.

.

A high-pitched scream ripped out of Forsyth’s throat as he dropped the bag and leapt onto the seat.  _“Rat!  It’s a rat!”_

Python, startled by Forsyth’s reaction more than anything, jumped back.  His head banged against the window loudly as he cursed.  Forsyth was inconsolable, clutching onto the handlebars and shaking his head rapidly as a fat white rat scurried out of the backpack and ran down the train, successfully giving the other patrons mild heart attacks.  “I take it back,” Python remarked, smirking.  “This kid is great.”

“Oh no!” Forsyth cried.  “Python, you have to get it back!  We can’t be responsible for losing his… his _pet.”_

“Hey, you were the one that went snooping in some toddler’s stuff.  Why can’t you go get the damn rat?”

“M-me?” Forsyth grimaced.  “No, no, I… you’re faster than I am.  And you have an eagle eye, you’ll be able to catch him way faster.”

“Nice excuse,” Python muttered, but relented.  He stood with a long-suffering sigh, stretched, and then walked down the aisle.  “Excuse me!” he called.  “Has anyone seen a damn rat about,” he held up his hands and spread them to about the size of a loaf of bread, “yea big?  May be rabid?”

The other commuters stared at him in alarm.  A few clutched their bags and raised their legs.  One woman even screamed.

 _“Python!”_ Forsyth bitched at him, scandalized.

“Well, we don’t _know_ if he’s _not_ rabid!” Python defended himself.  At the stern look on his friend’s face, Python sighed.  “Oh, all right.  I’m going.  Excuse me,” he said to the man on his left and began calling for the rat. The trouble was that rats weren’t exactly inclined to bound over the moment they were called.  Python wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

“Here, Ratatouille,” he called flatly.  Then, amazingly, he spotted the white ball of fur digging into woman’s purse.  “Gotcha,” he whispered and crept forward.  “All right, Stuart Little, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”  The rat poked his head out, a nibbled piece of gum hanging from its mouth, and stared at Python, completely unimpressed.  It moved and Python thoughtlessly lunged.

He fell, managing to catch the squirming rat before it could leave, and laughed in triumph.  Unfortunately, he had landed directly between the woman’s legs and he looked up into her _very_ angry eyes.  “Oops.”

Python returned to his seat with the rat in hand and a stinging red mark on his cheek.  “Mission accomplished,” he muttered.

“Good job!  And look what I found!  The _father’s_ driver’s license!  It has their address and everything.”

Python sat down.  “So we’re just going to go to their home and deliver their rat and moldy bread?  What are we, some kind of reverse garbage men?”

“Why not?  It’s not far.  How would you be able to rest knowing some poor little boy is missing his pet rat?”

“Like a log,” Python answered.  “Because I’m a real adult who just works nine-to-five shifts and deserves some peace and quiet.”

“You’re the worst kind of person.  What if they’re really upset?”

“You worry too much. I’m sure they’re doing just fine.”

.

“Okay, Alm, calm down,” Lukas said gently and raised his hands, which had oven mitts on them.  He kept one eye on the stove timer and the other where his son was perched precariously on the back of the couch, plastic wiffle ball bat in hand.  “Can you sit down on the couch for me?  _Nicely?”_

“NO!” Alm shouted and jumped, swinging his bat wildly.

“Alm _, no!”_ Lukas cried as Alm’s foot slipped and he fell, as if in slow motion, and landed with a large _THUD_ and a foreboding crashing noise.  “Alm!”

Alm popped up, stumbling but unarmed.  Lukas ran over, hands searching his son’s head for bumps, but Alm struggled out of his grip and pointed his bat at him.  “I want Fernand!” he cried and bopped Lukas on the head repeatedly.

A moment later, the smoke alarm went off.

.

Forsyth and Python got off at the next stop and began walking towards the address listed on the father – Lukas’s – license.  They had discarded the old food and placed the rat back into the bag, which Forsyth held protectively.  “I think it’s this way.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Python said.  “We should’ve just left the bag at the lost and found.”

“But the rat!”

“The damn rat,” Python corrected.

“The damn rat,” Forsyth amended.  “Who knows that they’d do to him?”

“Can’t be any worse than being stuffed into a bag with four oranges, can it?”

“Wait.  Hold up.  This isn’t right.” Forsyth huffed, turning his phone in frustration.  “The blue dot isn’t moving!”

“Great,” Python piped, “we’re gonna die on the streets because you wanted to play the chivalrous knight.”

“I’m not—shut up.”

“Check your signal,” he said.

“There _is no_ signal!”

Python had to remind himself that Forsyth was a dear old friend, that sometimes he got carried away with his childhood dreams of heroes, and that it was not ethically moral to choke someone.  He took a deep breath and held out a hand. “Let me see it.  This is exactly why your parents were terrified to let you move to the city, you know that, right?”

Forsyth pouted but handed over his phone.  “Like _you’re_ some boy scout.”

 “The sad part is that you actually _were_ a boy scout.  I’ve known you all my life and you’re my best friend, but I’m pretty sure you would die instantaneously if you were ever left alone.”

His pout deepened.  “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Uh-huh.  Yeah.  Magellan?”  Python turned his phone around.  “This isn’t even the map app!  This is a screenshot!  Why did you take a screenshot of the map?”

“So I wouldn’t lose the map,” Forsyth mumbled.

“Forget it.  Your phone is out of service anyways.  We’ll use mine.”  He reached for his pocket, but his phone wouldn’t budge.  He started squirming.  “Shit – it’s stuck in my pocket!”

“For goodness sake!  I told you they were too tight!  Why do you even wear them?”

“To pick up hot gingers!”

“Ugh!” Forsyth rolled his eyes. “You don’t even know if he’s single!  He had a kid.  He’s probably married.”

“I didn’t see a ring.”

“Yeah, sure, _that_ you noticed.”

He freed his phone and waved it triumphantly in the air.  “Finally!  Okay, let’s get this over with.  What’s the address?”

“Um.  I…I can’t remember.”

“Well, get the license.”

 Forsyth unzipped the bag a tiny bit and peered into it.

“Fors, the rat isn’t gonna hurt you.  Just reach in and grab it.”

“R-right.  Okay.  Yeah.”  With great effort, Forsyth reached in.  He rummaged around for a long time, face growing more and more panicked, until he glanced sheepishly back at Python.  “I lost it.”

“You lost,” Python droned, “the dad’s license.”  Then he burst into laughter.

“Oh, God, stop! It’s not funny!  I must’ve thrown it away with the bread!  Let’s go check the garbage cans!”

“It’s hilarious!” he choked out.  “First, you wake me up.  Then, I get slapped by some random lady on the subway for a rat.  We walk half way across the city and now you tell me that, not only do we have no idea where we are, but now we have to go back and dig through garbage?  For what?  A kid we don’t even know?  Hot dad or not, this is a lot of effort.”

“What do you propose we do, then?” Forsyth huffed.  “Give up?”

“Not everything has to be like a damn Disney movie.  Sometimes giving up is the best you can do.”

Forsyth bit his lower lip, staring at feet and crossing his arms in thought.  He seemed to battling with his morals.  Python could nearly see the angel and demon siting on either shoulder and his internal debate with both of them.  Then, after a winner was declared, Forsyth glanced up.  “I’ll help you _attempt_ to get his number if you follow through.”

Python pursed his lips.  “I’m not _that_ desperate,” he lied.  “You’re gonna have to sweeten the pot.”

“I won’t complain about anything you do – or, rather, _don’t_ do – for a week.”

“Hmm…”  Python tapped his chin.  “Now, _that_ sounds like a relaxing week.  You realize that means you can’t complain when you get home and there’s dirty dishes in the sink, right?”

Forsyth’s eye twitched.  “…Yes.”

Python grinned.  “All right.  Deal.  Let’s go get Hot Dad’s license.  Say, do you think he’s a Virgo?  I bet he’s a Virgo.”

Forsyth opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.  “I’m not sure,” he bit out, looking rather pained.

Python smirked.  This was going to be a fun week.

The subway station was nearly empty by the time they returned.  Forsyth marched ahead quickly, gunning for the garbage can and gripping the sides.  “Uh oh,” he said.

“‘Uh oh?’” Python echoed.  _“Please_ don’t say, ‘uh oh.’”

“This is empty.  They must have just changed it.”  He turned.  “There was a dumpster outside.”

“Uh, yeah, no.  I’m not dumpster diving like some Trashy Michael Phelps for a tiny piece of plastic.”

“Do it for the redhead!” Forsyth encouraged him.

“And smell like barf and rotten food when I talk to him?  No thanks.”

“Let’s just look quickly, then.”

Not quite following his friend’s logic, they nevertheless went around the back.  A singular dumpster decorated in graffiti sat at the end of a long alley that looked far too shady for Python’s comfort zone.  Forsyth handed off the bag and ran ahead without hesitating, and for a moment Python envied how determined his friend could be when he had a goal set in mind.  It lasted only a moment, however, as that brazen courage was what had Forsyth lifting the dumpster lid and hopping inside.  He landed with a horribly loud _BANG_ and a soft cry.

“Fors?” Python came forward and knocked on the side.  “You okay, buddy?”

“Yeah,” came Forsyth’s weak reply.  “I wasn’t expecting it to be nearly empty.  There’s only one bag in here and – _ouch._ Oh, hey, this is definitely our bag!  I found the moldy bread, look!”

Python stepped away with raised hands.  “I’ll take your word for it.  Just find the license so we can get out of here?  This place is giving me major creeps.”

Suddenly a bright flashlight shone in Python’s eyes.  _“The hell—?”_

“Well, well, well,” a snide voice called out.  “What do we have here?  Waiting for your dealer, are you?”

Python shielded his eyes and glanced past the light.  Two police officers stood in front of him.  One was grinning condescendingly with smartly styled white hair.  The other had short blond hair and seemed mildly amused.  “Easy, Fernand,” he chided.  “There’s no crime against loitering.”

The white-haired officer, Fernand, huffed.  “Are you blind, Clive?  Why else would a full-grown man be waiting in a dark alley at this time at night?  Carrying a child’s backpack no less?”  His eyes narrowed.  “What’s in the bag, you thug?”

“Thug?” Python repeated heatedly.  “Is this about my hair?”

Fernand didn’t reply, just ripped the bag out of his hands.  “Hey!” Python cried. “I don’t see a warrant!”  Fernand ignored him again and opened it.  Python got a bad feeling about where this was heading.  “Um… I don’t think you want to do that, officer.”

“Oh?  And why don’t I, pray tell?”

“Pray tell?” Python repeated with a wrinkled nose.  “Never mind.  Go ahead.”

“That’s what I thought.  You street gangs think you own this city.  Well, I’ve enough of your violence and drugs and–!” Then, the rat leapt out of the bag like a bat out of hell and scurried right into Officer Fernand’s sleeve.  Fernand let out a startled, high-pitched scream and staggered back.  “A weapon!” he cried.  “Clive, they have a bioweapon!”

Officer Clive laughed and raised his hands to help.  “Calm down, Fernand!  It’s just a rat!  I’ll help you, just—!”

“RAT? Get it off!  OFF!”

Python wondered if there was a law against laughing at police officers, even in ridiculous situations as these.  In the midst of the chaos, just when Python thought things couldn’t get worse, Forsyth burst from the dumpster, holding up the license with a huge smile.  “I FOUND IT!”

The two police officers froze.  The rat squirmed in Clive’s grip.  Python pinched the bridge of his nose.

The mess got sorted out as Forsyth explained the situation, handing over the license and pointing between the rat and them several times.  Fernand stared warily at the rat, but let Clive do most of the talking, which was good news for them because Clive took one look at the license and lit up.  “You two know Lukas?” he asked.  “He’s a good friend of mine.  My little sister babysits for him.”

“U-uh, we don’t know him very well,” Forsyth stammered.  “But we’re just trying to return his pet.”

“I didn’t take Lukas for the type to let his child play with disease-ridden vermin,” Fernand hissed.

Clive shrugged.  “Well, that son of his probably didn’t leave him much of a choice.”  He turned back to Forsyth and Python.  “If you’d like, we can escort you there.  It’s just a few blocks down the road.”

Fernand didn’t share Clive’s enthusiasm, but he simply crossed his arms and conceded to Clive’s decision.  Forsyth shone.  “That would be great!”

.

There was a knock at the door.  Lukas, who had been asleep with his head on the kitchen counter, jerked upright.  Alm was passed out on the floor at his feet.  Nerf darts were scattered around him.  He would never forgive Mycen for showering Alm with various toy weapons.  There came another knock and Lukas stood up.  The sound woke Alm, who shot up at once brandishing his Nerf gun.  “Zombies?”

“No zombies,” Lukas assured him and answered the door.  “Yes?  Oh.  It’s you.”

It was the two men from the subway.  One of them raised a hand in greeting.  “Good evening!” he said loftily.  “My name is Forsyth and this is my friend, Python.  We just wanted to return this,” he held up Alm’s backpack, “to its rightful owner.”

Lukas raised his eyebrows.  “But… how did you know where to find us?”

“Your license was inside,” Python spoke up.  “Along with some other… slightly disturbing things.”

“My license!” Lukas gaped.  “That little thief.  I’ve been looking for that for days…”

“And, don’t worry, your rat is okay as well!” Forsyth beamed and held up the fat white rodent.

Lukas grimaced.  “Oh no.”

“Fernand!” Alm cried, tears of joy springing to his eyes as he stretched out his hands.  “You came home!”

Lukas placed a hand on his forehead.  “Oh my God.  It really does look like Fernand.  Alm, where did you find him?”

“At the pet store!  Clair took me.”

 _“Clair_ did?”

“Uh-huh!  I put him in my bag.”

"And did Clair know you did that?"

Alm tilted his head to the side, completely not understanding Lukas's point at all.  "No?"

“So you… how long have you had,” Lukas pursed his lips, trying not to laugh, “Fernand?”

“I dunno.” Alm held the rat lovingly, eagerly showing his father.  “Look!  He has big teeth!”

“Yes, he does.” Lukas’s hands were now hovering above his son, wanting to separate the two but also not wanting to hurt his feelings.  “But, Alm, be careful.  Fernand could bite you and you can get very sic—”

Alm was no longer listening.  He ran back over to Python and Forsyth with a brilliant smile.  “Thank you!” he said.  “Fernand said thank you, too!”

“Well, we were honored to have delivered such important cargo!” Forsyth declared in a lofty voice that Alm seemed to love even though he probably didn’t understand any of it.  “He’s a very fine rat.”

“A very fine damn rat,” Python muttered under his breath and Forsyth stepped on his toes with a pointed look at the child present, absorbing their every word.  Python turned to Lukas.  “Sorry if we weren’t supposed to bring that back.  We thought it was a pet.”

Lukas sighed.  “I suppose as long as he did steal him from the pet store and not from the subway station then it should be fine.  After an extensive veterinarian exam and purchasing a very durable cage, that is.”

“Heh.” Python grinned.  “Will the wife be okay with that?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not…” Lukas glanced at Alm, who was instructing Forsyth how to pet Fernand without startling him.  “I’m not married or anything like that.”

“Really?” Python seemed to consider that for quite a while.  “Good to know.”

Lukas blinked at him and then smiled in confusion.  “I’m sorry to have troubled you both, but I’m sincerely grateful.  Alm’s happy, which means I might actually get a moment of peace.”

Python placed a hand on his hip and lifted his chin.  “It was no trouble at all.  We were very happy to do it.”

 _“One_ of us was, at least,” Forsyth muttered with a pointed look at his friend.

Python raised an eyebrow at him.  “I’m sorry.  Was that a _complaint?”_

Forsyth’s eyes narrowed but he returned his attention to Alm, who was animatedly showing him how to load foam bullets into his Nerf gun.

“Still,” Lukas interjected, “is there a way I can repay you?  To say thanks?”

Python hummed.  “What about just a cup of coffee?”

Lukas smiled.  “I think I can manage that.  Would you care to come in, then?”

“Sure, we can stay for a bit.  Right, Fors?”

“Of course.”

Stars burst in Alm’s eyes as he spun to Lukas.  “Can I show him Berkut, Dad?” he begged.  “Please?”

“Berkut?” Lukas cringed.  “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but who is Berkut?”

“My beetle!” Alm exclaimed as if it was obvious, and Lukas sat down at the counter with a cringe.

“…Sure,” was all he said, and Alm cheered, pulling Forsyth into the apartment and chattering on and on about the things he’d found.  Forsyth shot Python a terrified look and Python gave him a thumbs up in response.

As Lukas recovered, Python asked, “By the way, your friend Fernand doesn’t happen to be a cop, does he?”

Lukas blinked.  “Yes, actually.  I've known him and Clive for years.  You know them?”

Python kept his smile sunny.  “Nope.  Now, how about that coffee?”

Lukas smiled.  He could hear Alm happily talking in his room, calm and quiet, and he had a feeling that these two might have brought something more than a bag and a damn rat.

**Author's Note:**

> me: how do i handle all these feelings from echoes?  
> me @ me: spoof it in fanfiction
> 
> Catch me on tumblr where these days I pretty much just yell about Lukas like Fernand and Berkut yell about those darn Valentian millennials meddling with their classist society -> [ghostystarr](http://ghostystarr.tumblr.com)


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